The phone rang again.
Dispatcher Brenda Lawson reached for it.
“Oak Haven County Sheriff’s Office.”
Sarah watched her.
Brenda was a white woman in her late forties, with practical brown hair pulled behind her head and tired eyes that had looked uncomfortable throughout Sarah’s booking.
Brenda listened.
“Could you repeat that?”
Ryker was speaking to Miller.
“You’re going to write that she raised her voice.”
“She didn’t really—”
Ryker turned sharply.
Miller stopped.
Brenda straightened in her chair.
“Yes, sir.”
Her expression changed.
Sarah saw it before Ryker did.
Brenda looked toward the holding cell.
Then at Sarah.
Sarah gave no reaction.
Brenda swallowed.
“One moment, Colonel.”
Ryker turned.
The word had reached him.
“What?”
Brenda covered the receiver.
“Sheriff.”
“What is it?”
Her voice was different now.
The boredom had disappeared.
“There’s a colonel calling from the Pentagon.”
Miller looked up.
Ryker frowned.
“The Pentagon?”
“He’s asking for Major General Sarah Reynolds.”
Nothing moved.
Sarah watched Ryker’s face.
At first, he did not understand.
Then his eyes shifted toward cell four.
Toward the Black woman he had called disrespectful.
Toward the woman whose attorney request he had dismissed.
Toward the woman whose government phone was sitting inside his property box.
For the first time since Route 119, Thomas Ryker’s confidence disappeared.
Miller whispered:
“Oh, hell.”
Brenda lowered her hand from the receiver.
The voice at the other end was loud enough that those closest to the desk could hear the tone, though not every word.
Controlled.
Male.
Military.
Brenda listened.
Then looked directly at Ryker.
“He wants to know on what lawful grounds we are holding the general.”
Ryker stared at Sarah.
Sarah stared back.
And did nothing.
No smile.
No triumph.
No sudden transformation.
That would later frustrate reporters.
Everyone wanted a dramatic look.
The powerful woman revealing herself.
The arrogant sheriff realizing he had chosen the wrong target.
Sarah felt none of that.
Her first thought was simpler.
Good.
Now there would be a record of the call.
Ryker moved toward the telephone.
“Give me that.”
Brenda handed him the receiver.
“This is Sheriff Ryker.”
The colonel spoke.
Ryker’s face tightened.
“No, Colonel, I understand who you’re saying she is.”
A pause.
“No, sir, she never identified herself as—”
Another pause.
Ryker glanced toward Sarah.
“She is currently detained on multiple charges arising from a traffic stop.”
Sarah almost admired how quickly his voice had become professional.
He had lost the rural contempt.
Lost the jokes.
Lost the command tone.
Now every word sounded as though an attorney stood beside him.
The colonel said something longer.
Ryker frowned.
“She has not been denied counsel.”
Sarah lifted an eyebrow.
Miller saw.
He looked uncomfortable again.
Sarah spoke loudly enough to carry across the hallway.
“I requested an attorney at 3:47 p.m.”
Ryker turned.
“Be quiet.”
Sarah continued.
“Sheriff Ryker told me, ‘You don’t get to call Washington every time someone tells you no.’”
Brenda’s eyes widened.
Miller looked toward the camera.
Ryker’s face darkened.